


Fight Or Flight

by ThatKanraGirl



Category: Final Fantasy X-2, Gippalai - Fandom
Genre: M/M, NSFW, Oneshot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatKanraGirl/pseuds/ThatKanraGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baralai always makes time for Gippal when he decides to grace him with his presence, but he's growing tired of wondering if there will ever be a next time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Or Flight

For as long as Baralai could remember, Gippal had always been something of a wanderer. He detested being in one place for too long. It made him feel vulnerable, and keeping himself on the move allowed him to remain elusive, with nothing but rumors and hearsay left in his wake. Baralai often found himself listening carefully for those rumors, trying to keep track of his wayward friend. Just a whisper that Gippal hadn’t gotten himself into some kind of trouble with fiends still on the winding roads of Spira was enough to keep his worries at bay for a day or two.

Baralai was resigned, if not necessarily surprised at Gippal’s desire to constantly appear and reappear in his life. He regularly felt that if anyone understood Gippal, it was himself. The Al Bhed hadn’t been a race most were fond of before the last calm began, and had really only now begun to mingle and mix with the people on the mainland instead of keeping to themselves as hermits on the distant isle of Bikanel. Having spent much of his life in fear of being born as what the temples had deemed as a heretic, Baralai found himself compassionate.

What was more was the life that Gippal had lead regardless of his disbelief in the teachings of Yevon. It had been through Gippal that Baralai had learned what he considered to be one of the most valuable lessons in his life. Yevonites and Al Bhed were the same. Both parties wanted nothing more than to rid the world of Sin and leave peacefully without trepidation. The only thing that differed was the methods in which they had sought to free themselves.

When Baralai had met him, Gippal was barely old enough to join the Crimson Squad, and he remained convinced that the young blond had lied about his age to join the training regiment in which to defeat Sin once and for all. Sixteen was so young to devote oneself to defend the people of Spira, yet Gippal did so with confidence. In the months they spent training, Baralai had seen the best and worst of the young Al Bhed. He had seen both the sometimes-false bravado when he headed into the heat of a battle with his machinegun in hand, but he had also seen the innocence of his age.

Beneath his quirky speech and hardened exterior, Gippal was still a child. Like the rest of them, he wanted nothing more than to run away from the problems of the world and not have to carry the burden in which Yevon and Sin brought down on his shoulders. He was desperate to escape the fate that he was born into, determined not to fall into the same vicious cycle that had plagued Spira for a thousand years. Baralai could recall all too well the rivets his boots made in the sand when he would force himself to stay and fight. He’d refuse to flee, and he’d grip his gun as though his life depended on it. There had been so much anguish swirling in his one, spiraled green eye.

So Baralai said nothing when Gippal would come to see him from time to time. He accepted Gippal’s quirks with a soft, welcoming smile and relief in his eyes that he didn’t bother to hide. And he couldn’t help but smile when Gippal was standing on the other side of his desk, a little older, and a little more defined than the last time Baralai had seen him. When he grinned, Baralai could still feel the butterflies that never seemed to go away when he was there flutter in his stomach. Although he cursed himself for feeling them there after so long, he genuinely missed them, and Gippal, when they were gone.

“You’re here,” he said as he set his pen down and folded his hands over the documents he had been immersed in since that morning. On the surface, the greeting was lame, but Gippal had been one of the very small handful of people that Baralai felt completely at ease with. There had never been a need to be overly formal in his presence. Gippal chuckled and scratched the back of his head, though it hadn’t gone unnoticed that the movement seemed forced.

“Long time, no see.” He lowered his arm again and Baralai silently observed how he seemed to coddle his shoulder. The leather of his chair creaked as he sat back and crossed his legs, his hands lying comfortably in his lap as he gazed upon him longer. Time had been kind to his desert friend. Gippal was as tan as he remembered, and perhaps even darker. It was a nice contrast to the blond mess of hair that somehow always looked perfect to him no matter how it lied.

Scrutinizing harder, Baralai did notice something amiss with the upstanding Al Bhed. Though he tried to mask it, it was clear to him that Gippal was in pain. Further inspection revealed the tear in the sleeve of his sweater, hidden only in part by his armor, and it was proof enough to him that something had indeed happened to him during his journey. Still, he bit his tongue and waited for him to offer up the information willingly.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” With his hands on his hips now, Gippal flashed him his signature grin and stepped closer to his desk until his thighs were near flush with the dark wood of the desk. The proximity between them only solidified Baralai’s suspicions and he found himself trying not to outright stare at the wound that was glaring him in the face.

“I don’t have to have a reason to see you, do I?” At that, the Praetor sighed. He should have known that Gippal wouldn’t just offer up what he wanted after all. The man was as stubborn as ever. Baralai stood, sighing as he maintained his smile.

“Of course not, however, I think it would be wise to have your arm looked at in the infirmary before we continue.” And there it was. A pitiful look of guilt flashed in the Al Bhed’s eyes before he could cover it up with nonchalance. Gippal shook his head quickly.

“Oh this?” He nodded toward his injury. “Just a scratch from a friendly fiend in the Calm Lands. Give it a day or two and it’ll be good as new.” Another cover, Baralai knew. He would need another tactic if he were going to get his friend to reveal the truth. Thankfully, Baralai did know of such a way.

“Then not the infirmary.” He came around the desk and reached out his hand, gingerly brushing his fingertips against his as he stepped smoothly. “I shall tend to it myself.” His eyes lingered on him for a moment as he smirked, expecting him to follow, and he did. Their footfalls fell into a natural synchronization as they traversed silently through the halls of Bevelle’s temple. All the while, Baralai could feel the taller man’s eye on him. Even through the thick robe he donned, Baralai could feel goose bumps racing up his spine.

As they entered his private chambers, Baralai felt grateful for the break Gippal offered him when he fancied a visit. Work had been less than kind to him since Lady Yuna and the Gullwings defeat of Vegnagun, and between settling matters with Nooj and the Youth League as well as having to clean up the mess that still lingered from the fall of Yevon and the Eternal Calm. As Praetor, there were times when he might not have seen his quarters for days. Yes, he definitely welcomed the distraction.

The quiet time they shared was comfortable for the most part. Naturally, there were things that Baralai had wanted to ask him about his travels and he was curious how his friend had been doing since their last encounter, however he also enjoyed giving Gippal peace. It wasn’t every day that Gippal had the luxury of a hot shower and clean sheets to sleep on, Baralai knew. The opportunity to have nothing to worry about rarely presented itself to the Al Bhed when there was the Machine Faction and the restoration of Home on weighing on his mind. In a sense, Baralai supposed he enjoyed caring for Gippal, and it made those butterflies in his stomach flutter when he realized that he had been the one chosen to care for him when he was in need.

“You’ve been busy.” Gippal’s eye analyzed his quarters and a small frown tugged on the corners of his lips. Baralai paused, also taking in the state of his living space. He could see Gippal’s point. The room was pristine. Each piece of furniture looked as though it hadn’t been used in ages, and if it hadn’t been for the temple maidens that came every few days to clean, he was certain they would have a layer of dust upon them as thick as his hand. He watched as Gippal moved almost cautiously, like he was afraid to disturb the atmosphere before lowering himself to sit on the couch.

“Indeed, I have. The work of a Praetor never sleeps, and lately, nor do I.” As the words left his mouth he recognized that they hadn’t come off as the joke he had intended them to be. Gippal’s frown deepened. “You needn’t worry though. I assure you I have been taking care of myself.” As he strode past him to gather the medical supplies from the bathroom he could hear a soft sigh, possibly of relief.

“That’s good.” With his uninjured arm, Gippal loosened the strap that held his armor across his chest and carefully slid it off, setting it on the floor beside him. “I worry about you, you know.” Baralai came back around the corner and chuckled.

“And I, you, my friend. Hearing sparse rumors of your well-being are hardly enough to keep me satisfied anymore.” He set a small, white box on the table and joined him. Gently, he took his arm, examining the wound through the slashed sweater and sighed. “Honestly, Gippal, what happened to you?” Gippal remained silent for a moment, staring hard at the medical kit on the table for no reason that Baralai could fathom. Taking his silence as an unwillingness to tell him, he shook his head.

“Take off your shirt. I can’t treat it through your clothes.” Immediately, Gippal complied, peeling the tight sweater off of his arms carefully before pulling it over his head and discarding it carelessly atop his armor. Now that Baralai was able to get a full view of what he was dealing with, it made his stomach churn and he gasped. The gash was infected, swollen, and discolored an awful shade of brownish green. Dried blood clung to open wound and Baralai quickly glanced at the tear in his sweater. Sure enough, there had been a bloodstain there, presumably hidden beneath the shoulder armor.

“Damn it, Gippal,” he muttered and set to work quickly in cleaning it. “How long has it been like this?” Gippal paused and couldn’t help chuckling, even as he set about breathing in long, slow breaths.

“Not sure. Maybe a couple of days?” Baralai paused and narrowed his eyes at him as he purposely poured disinfectant into the wound and received a twisted sense of gratification as the blond winced and yelped loudly.

“Serves you right,” he said plainly, and Gippal pouted. “Why didn’t you seek medical attention sooner?”

“I came to you, didn’t I? The Calm Lands are just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Bevelle.” As Gippal looked him in the eyes he sighed, hardly able to tear his gaze away and focus on his task. Baralai frowned.

“Ah, the patented Praetor Puppy Face. My favorite.” Gippal teased, and Baralai immediately righted his features with a scoff.

“There are plenty of other people trained to treat this sort of wound,” he reminded him. Carefully, he pressed a swab to the incision and furrowed his brows. The Al Bhed had been lucky the infection wasn’t any worse than what it had already become.

“But I don’t trust them. I trust you.” At that Baralai flushed and he dipped his head down in attempt to hide it beneath the collar of his robe. Gippal’s grin grew lascivious even as he winced again.

“Besides, I like when you have your hands on me.” Baralai flushed harder, making it impossible to hide and glared at him.

“Not now, Gippal,” he warned, and tried to focus on anything but the smirk the blond was  
flashing him. A long paused hung between them as Gippal watched him work with an emotion in his eye that Baralai couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t until he had spread the ointment over his wound and begun to wrap it when Gippal finally spoke again.

“I was on my way to see you anyway. I was half way across the Calm Lands when I got ambushed by a couple of coeurls. The first one went down easily enough, but the second one landed one of its claws into me.”

Baralai listened as he finished wrapping his arm and tied a knot to keep it firmly in place. He sat back, admiring his work, and inadvertently, Gippal, though perhaps it had been the other way around. Now that Gippal was out of any immediate danger, he took a moment to really drink him in. No new scars, save for the one that coeurl would leave him – which was a relief – and still as toned and beautiful as he remembered. Gippal smiled, and Baralai couldn’t help but smile in kind.

“Dryhgc,” he said, and scooted closer. “Feels better already.” Baralai laughed softly. There had been something about how natural it felt to be with Gippal that made his toes curl, though it might also have been that he thought it was cute the way that Gippal felt at ease slipping into his native tongue with him. Not that Baralai minded. During their days as members of the Crimson Squad, Gippal had tutored him in Al Bhed. Years later, he had become fluent, and found some hilarity in a Yevonite speaking the once considered heathen language. Baralai enjoyed being close to Gippal like this – alone and unmasked – and made no motion to stop him from advancing. Shifting his legs allowed him to relax and he leaned against the arm of the couch.

“You should stay while it heals,” he suggested. “Going into battle with an injury like that could put you at a greater risk of making it worse.” The smile fell from Gippal’s face and he sat upright. Baralai blinked, confused, and straightened his back again.

“Actually,” Gippal started, “That’s what I came here to talk to you about.” In that moment, Baralai swore his heart had stopped. Whatever Gippal was about to say couldn’t be anything good, not with how he suddenly drew himself away, and certainly not with how he couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. He swallowed thickly, searching for anything to curl his fingers into to brace himself for the impending impact of the words that he was about to hear.  
Both of them blushed when they registered that what Baralai had grabbed onto was Gippal’s hand, but neither of them pulled away. Instead, Gippal seemed to relax, and he laced their fingers together.

“Lusa fedr sa.”

Baralai blinked and tilted his head, confused. Go with him? Where? For a moment he pondered whether or not this was another one of Gippal’s ploys to lure him to the bedroom, but something in the back of his mind told him that it wasn’t quite that simple. Slowly he stood, but stopped when Gippal didn’t so much as budge.

“I don’t mean to bed, Baralai. I mean…” He trailed off as though he was searching for the right words to say and Baralai sat again, a bewildered expression on his features. Tanned fingers clenched his hand and Gippal pulled him close enough that Baralai could feel his breath hitting his cheek. Slowly, he licked his lips and took a deep breath before he spoke softly.

“When my arm is healed and I leave again, I want you to come with me.”

Baralai’s breath caught in his throat and he stared at him with wide eyes. Admittedly, he had always hoped to one-day join Gippal in his adventures in Spira, but there were many matters that demanded his attention as the Praetor of New Yevon and leader of Bevelle. Leaving would cause uproar in the temple and problems to stir amongst his people. As one of the main political figures, abandoning his duties would only raise a national dilemma.

After a prolonged hush, Baralai exhaled and closed his eyes. His face contorted with anguish as he leaned closer, his lips grazing the skin of his jaw as he whispered.

“Cunno, Gippal. As much as I want to, my place is here, with my responsibility to the people of Spira.”

“Bmayca, Baralai.” Gippal cut him off, his voice holding onto an emotion that he hadn’t heard from his friend since his body had been released from Shuyin’s soul. He was desperate, almost needy.

“You know I can’t,” he replied softly, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t stay here, Gippal. I meant it when I said that hearing rumors of your well-being only suffice for so long.”

“You know I can’t stay.”

There it was. Again, Gippal just wanted to run away. Remaining in one place for a lengthy period of time scared him still, just as it always had seemed to. They were at a stalemate, and it made Baralai angry.

“Why?” He sat up, eyes seeking answers that he hadn’t been able to find in all the years that he had been with the Al Bhed. “What is so wrong with settling down? What are you so afraid of, Gippal?” The color from Gippal’s face blanched and he leaned back. Baralai knew that look. He felt dejected, sad, and more terrified of facing the real world than he had ever seen him before even in the face of death.

“Tell me,” he pleaded. “I see you once every several months without a single word from you in between. You come here, stay for a week, have sex with me, and leave again.” The more Baralai spoke, the angrier he became and he couldn’t stop himself from the rage that had peaked after so long of keeping it to himself. Time after time, Gippal left and came as he pleased, never once concerning himself with the toll it had been taking on him. Baralai was left to worry sick over whether or not he would see the blond again. What was more, he was left to contemplate whether or not what they were, what they had been for a while, meant anything more to him than a roll in the sheets.

Gippal said nothing as he withdrew his hand and set it back in his lap. There was something at the tip of his tongue, Baralai knew, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to get it out of him before he could slip away yet again. Standing, he gazed down at him, eyes hard and desolate.

“If you leave again, don’t come back.” The words shocked himself but he refrained from taking them back even as he heard Gippal’s heart shatter – at least, he had assumed it was Gippal’s and not his own. “If you leave here again, I won’t be able to take it. Every time you walk out that door I pray that it isn’t the last time. Do you have any idea what you do to me when you go, Gippal?”

“Baralai…” Gippal’s voice was meager as he looked at him, but Baralai paid it no mind as he continued.

“You say you care and that you trust me to take care of you, but you leave anyway. How do you think that makes me feel when at the end when I have to come back here and be alone again?”

“Baralai,” he tried again, and again, Baralai persisted.

“I hate it! I hate not knowing what I am to you or how you really feel! You’re constantly running away from responsibility and away from me and I’m sick of it, Gippal!”

“Baralai!” Gippal stood, and this time had his full attention as he towered over him, his eye searching his face as he cupped it gently. His hands made him melt and Baralai cursed himself for not being able to stand his ground when his hands were on him. Frozen, he stared, eyes filled with emotion that just kept bubbling over and they brimmed with confused, angry, distraught tears. That had been the suffering he had endured without his friend, the one he loved by his side.

The soft pad of a thumb brushed his cheek, erasing any traces that he had cried because of him. Baralai panted softly as he fought to keep feelings in check and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Cracked lips skimmed over his own, and he felt Gippal speak rather than heard him.

“Tuh’d lno.”

With a long, shuddering breath, Baralai caved to him, crashing his lips against Gippal’s in a bruising kiss. The hands on his cheeks pulled him closer and Baralai fisted curled his fingers into the bare skin of his chest as he moaned against him, his anger ebbing away with every hot clash of lips and teeth. Regardless of how much time had passed, Gippal tasted the same as he always had, and the familiarity made his heart race in his chest. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall, and it was only then he realized that he was warm, too warm.

As their lips parted Baralai huffed, scrambling to remove the obtrusive garment. Deft fingers pulled on just the right places until he was able to shrug off his robe, discarding it and his shirt negligently at his feet before pressing himself to Gippal once more. The sensation of skin on skin ignited him and his hands roamed over his back, revisiting every curve and crevasse that he had grown to love.

He had memorized his Al Bhed lover, from the scar on his chest that Nooj had left him that fateful day at the Mi’ihen Highroad, to the trail of freckles that outlined his left hipbone, and Gippal shivered as he traced them with the tips of his fingers. Teeth dragged across Baralai’s neck and lips sucked at the exposed flesh as though he were the blonde’s favorite dessert. Having Gippal like this, so warm and desperate to touch and be touched excited him like nothing else ever could.

“Bedroom,” he gasped out just as Gippal nipped his darker skin and his knees nearly buckled, forcing him to dig his nails into his shoulder blades for purchase. His only response was a quiet hum in agreement before Gippal’s larger hand ceased his own, towing him further into his quarters with haste. No sooner had Baralai shut the door behind them was Gippal on him again, arms wrapping tightly around his waste and pressing himself against his hip, rocking eagerly as he delved down for another searing kiss. Baralai purred, fingers burying into surprisingly soft hair and pressed back, grinding against his thigh and causing his pants to become increasingly uncomfortable.

With eager hands and demanding lips on him, Baralai forgot all but natural instinct. When he inhaled sharply between Gippal’s needy kisses, it was only because his body told him he needed to. Similarly, when coarse, sand-bitten hands dragged over his torso and fingers expertly undid the button on his pants, he had disregarded any sense of decency and hardly remembered to blush as they were tugged swiftly to the floor in a pool around his ankles.

Before long, Baralai’s mind was little more than a blur of passion and friction as the palm of Gippal’s hand stroked his now bare cock and Gippal smirked against his lips as it twitched with excitement. Amidst the thrill of skin on skin friction and the sultry clash of tongues fighting for just a taste of what the other had to offer he scarcely recalled the clatter of Gippal’s belts and the rustle of his pants as they fell at their feet. It hadn’t been until the Al Bhed had pulled him from the door and pushed him gently onto the bed that Baralai had any idea that his boots had vanished.

He watched through glazed eyes as Gippal settled his knees on either side of him, taking the reprieve to admire exactly what he had spent tireless months waiting for. His eye glowed in the dark light of Baralai’s bedroom, and the silhouette the moon casted upon him made his body appear more chiseled. They fixed their eyes on one another, saying more through lustful gazes and ardent grazes than they could ever find the words for. For the brief moment, everything was still but the swimming of Baralai’s brain and the beating of his heart against his ribcage. Anticipation of what he knew was going to happen next swirled in the pit of his stomach.

As Gippal leaned closer and Baralai reached out to touch his face their cocks brushed. Any inkling of sanity that had remained vanished and they groaned in unison. Before Baralai could blink, Gippal was on him again; teeth gnashing at his neck and surely leaving a mark that would shine bright even on Baralai’s dark skin. He clenched his nails into Gippal’s back with a hitched breath, scoring him with long, pink scratches as he rolled his hips with an urgency that left him shaking. The slide of Gippal’s hand across the sheets caught his ears and he craned his neck just enough to see him grab the small bottle of lubricant from beneath the pillow. An amused smirk graced his lips, his eye catching his and he easily popped the cap open.

He tipped the bottle, dripping the liquid down his chest and watching with fascination as it trailed along lightly toned muscles until it reached his groin. Gippal chuckled low in his throat, the sound making the hairs on the back of Baralai’s neck and he moaned as a hand spread the oil over him. Calloused thumbs teased the peak of his nipple before tracing absent-minded patterns along his stomach, making his breath stutter as he tried not to giggle from the tickling sensation. Sitting back on his haunches again, Gippal squeezed a generous amount of lubricant, coating Baralai’s cock dragging the excess with his fingers, teasing them around tight muscle.

A long, drawn out noise spilled from between Baralai’s lips and he pushed himself into the touch, his cheeks burning. That he was so sensitive to every little thing Gippal did to him was almost embarrassing except when considering their bedroom time had been more and more infrequent. He supposed he could blame it on that, but Baralai liked to think that his avidity towards the younger male was all because that’s just what Gippal succumbed him to.

If he wasn’t blushing already, he definitely was once Gippal drove a long finger into him, causing his body to go rigid and his moans to be nothing less than lewd. The Al Bhed smirked and spread his legs wide, making a lecherous display of Baralai’s swollen cock and flushed complexion. Baralai rolled his hips and pushed himself further onto the digit, his body yearning for the sensation of being filled. Knees bent, they shook as Gippal crooked his finger, dragging it over tense muscles with each deliberate push and Baralai’s voice caught. The sound that rang out echoed against the walls of his room but all he could hear was the low, sultry chuckle from the Al Bhed above him.

“I guess it has been a long time. You’re pretty close already.” There was something smug in his tone as he loomed over him and retracted his finger and Baralai’s knuckles paled with the intense grip he had on the sheet beneath him, groaning in complaint at the loss of being filled. His cock twitched, desperate to be touched and hanging from a thin thread that he was eager to break. He wanted to come, and he wanted Gippal to be the one that made it so.

Baralai blinked, a fruitless effort to focus his vision as he lifted his head and smiled genuinely. It was amazing how one person was able to ease all of his daily tension away and make kind gestures such simple smiles come with ease as opposed to putting on a facade for the public to admire from afar. Gingerly, he reached out with a shaky hand and traced the line of Gippal’s jaw, laughing low in his throat when the blond pressed his lips to his palm. Gippal smiled in kind, gently nuzzling it has he inched closer, the tip of his cock pushing against him until he was inside. Simultaneously, they moaned, and Baralai’s head fell back onto the pillows with a quiet thud.

It had been a long time, months that he had lost count of, since they had had intimate contact like this. What he couldn’t quite comprehend was that his body should not have been so used to being filled. With Gippal out wandering or whatever it is that his Al Bhed love did whilst he was away for a time, he should be tense at the very least. Something about Gippal, however, made it so he wasn’t. Of course, that wasn’t to say that there wasn’t any tension at all; that would have taken all of the fun out of it, he mused internally.

Yet it was just something else Baralai had chalked up to it being because it was Gippal.

Strong arms circled around his thighs and Gippal slowly entered until his hips were flush to the curve of Baralai’s ass, releasing a long, slow breath. Long lashes fluttered against his skin as he tried to level his breathing. All the while, Gippal maintained a sort of smirk about him, as though he knew that he would be the only one to see Baralai in such a disheveled state.

Thoughts like that swiftly fled as soon as Gippal drew his hips back and quickly snapped into him again. Subtlety hadn’t ever been a strong suit for the Al Bhed, and he continued to prove that further with each increasingly quick thrust. Baralai purred, hands scrambling for purchase and settling to his own hair. His nails scraped the surface of his scalp and he turned his head as though he could hide the blush that had rose and burned his cheeks. Every drive into him sent his body reeling. The feel of bare skin sweating and sticking and the cracking sound it made when they connected and reconnected mixed with the rustle of the sheet was nothing short of vulgar. On any other occasion, the upstanding praetor would find such things detestable, however, being like this, so openly depraved and perverted with such a fine man, Baralai could find no reason why he should be at all disgusted, not when it felt better than anything he could have ever dreamed up.

Gippal stopped. Why had he stopped? Before Baralai could ponder a reason he was lifted from the bed and his legs came to rest bent at the knee on either side of Gippal’s. Calloused fingers dug into his hips and their chests became pressed together. Baralai could feel Gippal’s ragged breathing on his neck as it fell hot and heavy on his already heated skin. For a brief moment their gazes latched onto one another and Gippal smiled as he gently pushed him down. Instinctively, Baralai moved with him, raising himself up and then lowering again until he was riding him slowly.

Yes, this was much better than being on display so lecherously. This was intimate and meaningful. Baralai folded his arms over Gippal’s shoulders, pulling him closer and resting his forehead against his as he slid down and slithered back up his cock, eliciting the most beautiful sounds of pleasure from the blond. It was nice to see Gippal so unguarded with his features a spectacle of gratification. Gradually, he moved faster, finding the rhythm that suited the moment and he panted against Gippal’s cheek. Scorching lips kissed his neck and teeth dragged along his darker skin before sinking them in, marking him as his own. Indeed, Baralai belonged to him. Somehow, he had known that since the very first day they met so many years ago.

Nails marred his hips as Gippal tugged hard, plunging him further onto his cock, and the room permeated with wanton moans and the scent of sex. Baralai rode him hard, rolling his body with each descent and grinding his length between them. He leveled a look on his Al Bhed partner, his eyes dark as he tangled his fingers into his sweat-slicked hair and crashed his lips against his in a feverish kiss that Gippal was more than happy to return with equal ferocity. Tongues clashed, and again Baralai inwardly swooned. There was no way someone could taste so utterly delicious, yet Gippal did, and it drove Baralai wild.

His muscles tightened and he pulled himself away from Gippal’s lips just barely as he came with a loud, strangled cry that echoed off the walls of his quarters. Hot semen shot onto their stomachs and smeared as Gippal hugged him close. He rocked his hips up, using Baralai’s quivering body and tense muscles to his advantage until he had followed suit, spilling himself inside him and moaning lewdly in his ear.

Baralai went limp, his head falling to Gippal’s shoulder and arms loosely hanging onto him. As he tried to catch his breath his chest heaved, and he could feel the measured inhales from Gippal tickle the hairs on the back of his neck as he rested his head atop his. The high from their orgasms tapered off slowly, and the inevitable feeling of exhausted weighed heavily on them.

Still, Baralai found that he didn’t want to move. If he moved, it was one step closer to his time with Gippal coming to an end. There in his lap, with arms holding him with care and kisses that made his heart skip beats, everything was perfect. If he moved, the fear that he would wake up and be gone again would be more present than ever.

His eyelids drooped and Baralai snapped them open again, fighting sleep. He was content like this, too content, perhaps. Sleep was a hard battle to win over, especially when Gippal was rubbing his back and humming something that Baralai had sworn he had heard before, but couldn’t place it. It lulled him into a peaceful state of mind, and he had finally given in to that persistent necessity.

“E muja oui, Baralai,” Gippal murmured softly, but Baralai had drifted so far down the way of sleep that he wasn’t sure if he ever said it back.

‘I love you too. I always will.’

Dawn broke sooner than Baralai would have liked. The start of a new day meant there was only more unfinished work for him to tend to, and with Gippal being there, the last he wanted to do was tear himself from the tangle of limbs and sheets. His toes scraped the cotton as he stretched with a soft squeak and tossed his arm to pull Gippal closer.

Thump.

Baralai’s eyes flew open when his hand landed on the empty space beside him and not the warm, naked body that should have been there. His mind reeled even as he tired to reason that maybe he had just gone to the bathroom. Upon sitting up he found Gippal’s pants and boots had gone missing from the pile that they had left on the floor the previous evening. Nausea sunk into the pit of his stomach and Baralai felt his face pale. He didn’t leave, he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t.

“Gippal!” His voice cracked from strain and sleep, and there was an added thrill in his cry that wasn’t there normally. Panic struck in full force when he didn’t receive a response or hear any movement come from the other side of the door. Scrambling off the bed, he pulled the sheet with him, clutching it around his hips as he threw the door open and ran down the hallway, narrowly avoiding tripping over himself.

When he reached the end he stopped, staring into the kitchen at the back of Gippal’s head. There he stood, sipping coffee from his usual red and white mug that he favored for no real reason, fully dressed. Baralai’s heart sank and his stomach lurched. So he really had planned on leaving, and he had been planning on doing it before he ever woke up. He was going to leave him alone with no intentions of even saying goodbye and thank you.

He caught himself on the wall, suddenly feeling dizzy. This was how it was, and he felt like a fool for allowing himself think that Gippal would ever change for him, that he could actually mean something to someone enough to make them stay. If he had known this was how it was going to be, he would have stopped it after one night; he would have never let himself fall in love with Gippal.

“You’re up,” Gippal said with a certain cheer in his voice and it made Baralai swallow hard, forcing back the sick feeling that persisted. Somehow he managed to look up from the floor and meet his eye and the smile that was curled on his lips was like a keen knife twisting right into his chest.

“I’m glad,” he continued as he came around the corner and handed him a cup of coffee, which Baralai politely refused with the wave of his hand. He didn’t think he could handle ingesting anything ever again. “We need to talk.” Again Gippal offered him the coffee, and again Baralai waved it off regardless of the dry lump in his throat, his voice scratchy as he replied.

“I think it’s pretty clear what your decision is,” he spat and Gippal chuckled, setting the coffee down on the table beside him.

“You’re making an awful lot of assumptions.” He put his hands on his hips and leaned close to his face. “It’s not going to be easy to haul everything from Djose to here by myself, you know. Now are you coming with me or not?” Gippal grinned and Baralai frowned as he narrowed his eyes.

“We’ve been over this, Gippal. I can’t just up and leave on some adventure with you. Why would you need to…” Baralai trailed off, blinking as Gippal’s words sunk in. He wanted to go to Djose with him? To get his belongings and bring them back here? No, it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“What?”

Gippal stood upright, chuckling as he sipped his coffee and tried a third time to get Baralai to drink his. Finally, Baralai reached out for the mug and cradled it as he brought it to his lips, sipping the warm liquid with a quiet, satisfied hum.

“You’re right,” he said mutely, “I need to stop running and find myself a nice Praetor to settle down with.” A gentle look lit up Gippal’s face as he smiled. “You wouldn’t know anyone that’s handsome, dark-skinned, pretty, has amazing hair, and looking to spend their life with an Al Bhed would you?”

Baralai took another swig of his coffee before eyeing him. Those pesky butterflies had returned and fluttered through what he thought was his whole body and he barely resisted the urge to simply drop the mug to the floor and throw himself into his arms. It was a childish notion, he thought, but for Gippal, it would have been worth it.  He settled for placing his mug back on the table and crooking a finger into his belt, drawing him closer and beaming happily as he pressed their lips together.

“Only if you make me coffee like this every morning.”

-

Translation footnotes:

Dryhgc – Thanks  
Lusa fedr sa – Come with me  
Cunno – Sorry  
Bmyaca – Please  
Tuh’d lno – Don’t cry  
E muja oui – I love you


End file.
